


through your teeth

by peppersnot



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 18:52:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18288182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppersnot/pseuds/peppersnot
Summary: Izaya wakes up engulfed in an oddly comfortable warmth with Shizuo’s breath on his face.





	through your teeth

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old thing I deleted earlier but I'm posting again because I like it. This time as a standalone, though. Comments/kudos appreciated as always!

Izaya wakes up engulfed in an oddly comfortable warmth with Shizuo’s breath on his face.

This wouldn’t be much of a problem otherwise, if it wasn’t early in the morning, if Shizuo didn’t have bad morning breath and if Shizuo didn’t have an arm thrown over Izaya’s body that stops him from being able to move away if he had the strength to move at all. It’s too early and he’s tired and cramped from yesterday’s chase and the sex, and even though he’s awake, he wishes he wasn’t.

He can’t move backwards, because Shizuo’s arm is pinning him to his spot. He could move his head forwards, but that would mean getting closer to Shizuo, and the position they’re in is already so questionably close to _cuddling_ and Shizuo is so _warm_ , Izaya doesn’t want to even consider it.

He moves closer to Shizuo’s face instead – close enough that when his eyes drop down to Shizuo’s parted lips, taking note of the stubble at his chin, he considers kissing him.

He bites instead.

Shizuo wakes up with a yell, pushing Izaya away in his sleep-ridden state and sitting up to see what the danger is. Izaya laughs hard, falling back onto the bed as he watches the expression Shizuo’s face change from drowsy shock to anger and is fully prepared for the hand that comes to grab at his wrists and pin them above his head, although he makes no move to try and stop it from happening.

“Shizu-chan looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping, I had to wake him up,” he says with a smile that grows wider when Shizuo growls.

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?”

“You were holding me really tight and breathing on my face.” Izaya shrugs, as if this is any sort of explanation for the blood that’s now rising to skin at Shizuo’s mouth. Izaya is definitely considering kissing him now. “And I needed to get out of bed.”

“So the only solution you could think of was to _bite_ me?”

“Unfortunately, my knives were too far away, but I did think of stabbing you.”

Izaya half expects Shizuo to get angry again, like he always does, but the expression on his face doesn’t change at all. He just looks down at Izaya in sleepy annoyance, his hands tightening their hold on his wrists until Izaya feels like any chance he might have had to escape before has now entirely dissipated.

He’s not trying to escape though, so it doesn’t matter.

They’re still in Shizuo’s apartment, and neither of them are dressed, and that’s as much protection he really needs from Shizuo’s strength.

“You’re fucked up, you know that,” Shizuo says more than asks, and lets him go. He sits there for a second, probably deliberating the pros and cons of waking up now as compared to going back to sleep, and then decides on getting out of bed. Izaya only watches.

He doesn’t know how he feels about their setup yet.

The first time was at his initiation, he’s well aware of that. He has the scar to prove it.

He doesn’t know why it happened though. It had been a normal enough day, with maybe the only _really_ interesting thing happening being the way that chase with Shizuo had left him feeling giddy and high on something that had made him think it was a good idea to try kissing Shizu-chan to see what it was like.

Maybe if he’d been at home when that thought arose, he’d have had enough time to think about it further and decide it was a bad idea, but he’d been in Ikebukuro, where Shizuo’s presence was so visible in every corner if he focused, and Izaya had always been focused.

His eyes had moved from that dent in the telephone pole, to that crack in the wall and his body had moved on its own, without waiting for any messages from his brain and before he knew it he’d been picking away at the lock at Shizuo’s door.

It had opened before he’d managed completely, but he hadn’t given Shizuo the chance to react before he was stepping over the threshold to grab his face with both hands and press their lips together.

He’s still not sure how _I wonder what Shizu-chan’s lips taste like_ became _I wonder if Shizu-chan fucks how he fights,_ nor how it became almost routine, and definitely not why Shizuo went along with it from the very beginning without needing to be coerced, but Izaya wasn’t going to bring that up. He’s fine not knowing. He doesn’t want to know.

Shizuo tosses Izaya’s clothes at him as he heads towards the shower. They’re crumpled from lying on the floor all night but it’s not going to be visible anyway so Izaya doesn’t care. He starts pulling his shirt on when he hears the shower running.

Under regular conditions, by the time Shizuo gets out, Izaya has already left, leaving behind some obnoxious post it note stuck in plain sight so Shizuo can look at it and get mad even while he’s not there. Under regular conditions, Izaya doesn’t bother sticking around because he doesn’t want to.

Today is not a normal day.

Izaya isn’t sure _why_ it’s not a normal day, but he suspects it has something to do with the fact that the sensation of warmth from Shizuo’s body hasn’t quite left yet, and even though it’s summer and the windows are open, there is an odd sense of loss that he can’t place. That, and the look in Shizuo’s eyes when he’d stared down at Izaya after pinning him to the bed, and the way Izaya had felt himself give in to the expression as if Shizuo had pulled the surrender out of him with just one look.

He hasn’t felt that way in a long time.

Today is _not_ a normal day.

He is still in bed when Shizuo emerges from his shower, tying the towel around his hips and he yells when he sees Izaya still sitting there in his shirt and nothing else, grinning up at him.

“Why the fuck are you still here?”

“You didn’t tell me to leave,” Izaya replies. This isn’t a lie exactly – although they have a silent understanding, that when Shizuo goes for a shower, he is expected to get dressed and get out, and he normally does so, today is not a normal day, and Shizuo never verbally told him to leave.

“You – “ Shizuo scowls, his fists clenching and Izaya takes the moment to take his shirt off again and gather up his clothes.

“It’s very rude of you to not offer your shower to your guests, Shizu-chan,” he says as he gets off the bed and heads off towards the bathroom. “I’ll leave after I wash my clothes. And I’m going to need to borrow something of yours.”

“What.”

Izaya sighs heavily, intentionally adding the hint of exasperation that always makes Shizuo angry as he turns around and raises the bundle of clothes in his hands higher. “I can’t wear my clothes while they’re wet, can I?”

“Then don’t wet them,” Shizuo tells him still scowling. He folds his arms across his chest and glares at Izaya, and Izaya’s eyes drift involuntarily to the muscles flexing at the action, making his mouth go dry and it is a chore to make himself look at Shizuo’s face again properly. Shizuo raises an eyebrow and Izaya knows he’s been caught ogling.

“I’m not _wetting_ my clothes, Shizu-chan, that’s a terrible thing to say,” he says, in a useless attempt at changing the topic. His face feels warmer now, and the protest is a stupid one, he knows. Shizuo is still looking at him like _that_ – like he can see through Izaya’s bullshit, even though Izaya knows he can’t _really_.

But Shizuo has always been good at surprising him, so who really knows?

 _It’s not like I want to stay here_ , he tells himself, turning around and heading into the bathroom before Shizuo can say any more. He doesn’t want to hear anything.

 

* * *

 

 

There is the pleasant smell of food in the air when he steps out. There is also a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants lying neatly folded on the living room sofa, and Izaya blinks stupidly in reaction to both.

“Don’t stand naked in my living room.” Shizuo’s voice makes him jump and he turns to where Shizuo is standing at the door of the kitchen, holding a spatula covered in grease, with the scowl Izaya is so used to seeing on his face strangely absent. Shizuo nods at the clothes. “I tried finding something that would fit you, but you’re so puny I don’t think this’d work either.”

Izaya doesn’t know what to say.

“I’m making breakfast, so just get dressed. And there’s a spare toothbrush in the bathroom cabinets somewhere.” With that, Shizuo goes back into the kitchen, leaving Izaya puzzling over the fact that: he’s been given Shizuo’s clothes to borrow, Shizuo is making him _breakfast_ , and Shizuo offered him a toothbrush.

Today is _not_ a normal day.

Unsurprisingly, the clothes are too big for him. The shirt reaches down to his thighs, and he considers just letting the pants that are just way too big go altogether, but he doesn’t like the air around his legs when he doesn’t have any underwear on, and the shirt isn’t long enough to cover anything up.

 _They smell like him_ , is the vague though that enters his mind as he’s pulling the pants up and rolling them up so he’s not falling over every step. He shoos it away as fast as it came, but right on its heels, as if it’s almost the same thought, comes: _you smell like him now_.

The thing is, Izaya _hates_ Shizuo.

Shizuo is unpredictable and annoying, and a deviation among the humans Izaya loves so much. Izaya cannot stand the way Shizuo as an outlier negatively skews the charts he’s made so carefully in his mind. He cannot tolerate the way his heart pounds heavily at the sight of Shizuo’s face, or the mere suggestion of sunlight against that tacky blond hair, making it glow, making Izaya feel practically _breathless,_ or the way his eyes are drawn to Shizuo’s lips every time the other says his name in anger or contempt; the way he sleeps peacefully with Izaya by his side as if despite everything, even the monster in him can come to learn something as humane as _trust_.

He _hates_ it.

Izaya stares down at his own body, covered in clothes that are unfamiliar and yet not, considers the domesticity of the situation and wonders how it came to this.

 _Why_ it came to this.

“Are you done yet?” Shizuo yells from the kitchen, shaking Izaya back to reality and he sighs and heads back into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

 

* * *

 

 

‘Breakfast’ in Shizuo terms, he learns, is just too much toast with everything you could possibly put on toast, a cup of pudding and a whole carton of milk that is drunk straight from the carton itself, without the need for any intermediaries.

There is an empty plate on the other side of the table, and a cup of tea.

Shizuo doesn’t drink tea.

Izaya _hates_ this.

“You’re such a hospitable host, Shizu-chan,” he says as he slips into the seat opposite, because it’s reflex for him to turn the silence into a fight when it comes to Shizuo. “I’m impressed.”

“Why do you always have to be such a _pest_?” Shizuo mutters, but he’s too busy spreading too much jam on a badly burnt piece of toast to get reasonably irritated. “I’m not going to fight you inside my own house.”

“Oh? Why not? Isn’t being here supposed to give you an advantage, since it’s your domain?” Izaya tugs at the oversized shirt he’s wearing. “You still have time, I wouldn’t be caught dead in public wearing your clothes.”

“I don’t want to wreck my own house. I’ll wreck yours without a thought, though.” And then Shizuo looks up, and his hands pause, and his eyes travel over Izaya’s body, taking in the sight of him drowning in the clothes that are definitely too big to be as comfortable as they are. Izaya feels _naked_ under that gaze, despite the clothes – and the fact that there is nothing _in_ that look, besides just amusement at how he looks in clothes three sizes too big, considering the smile pulling at Shizuo’s lips although Izaya thinks he probably hasn’t realized he’s smiling.

“That’s not very nice of you,” he replies, willing himself to keep eye contact, even though his face feels warm and his skin is tingling and he doesn’t like this setting, this isn’t what he’s used to.

“You look stupid in those.”

“They’re your clothes, of course I look stupid.”

“You’re so…” Shizuo frowns, contemplating his words. “ _Delicate_.”

Izaya blinks. “Excuse me?”

“You are. You run around like anything but you look like if you fell over from the shortest height you’re going to just break. Even when we’re having sex, I always think I’m going to put in too much force and you’ll get hurt.”

“And what, you’re _worried_?”

He expects Shizuo to say no. It’s only _natural_ for Shizuo to say no. To roll his eyes and throw some lame insult in his direction with no hesitance or question about the fact that Shizuo is not worried, and Izaya is ready for the sting that’s meant to bring – that it always brings, no matter how hard he tries to pretend it doesn’t.

Of course, he should have known Shizuo would do anything but what Izaya expects him to do.

Which is to shrug, look away and murmur something that sounds an awful lot like “I dunno, maybe,” and turn his attention to the piece of toast he’d been busy with for so long. Izaya is left to stare.

 _I’m not delicate_ , he wants to say – he’s not sure if it’s the truth or not, but he wants to say it just because. _You only think I am because you’re too strong for your own good_ or _I don’t want your judgment, Shizu-chan_.

“Everything’s delicate to you,” he says eventually. “It hardly means anything, coming from a monster.”

Shizuo’s expression changes then. “Don’t call me that.”

“What, a monster? But that’s what you are, right?”

“ _Izaya-kun_.”

He should have stopped there, Izaya thinks. He didn’t need to go on, but his mouth is moving before his brain can process the fact that there are words, and that they’re taking his voice and spilling out into the space between them. “Shizu-chan should know better than anyone that anything under his strength is delicate, right? Telephone poles, or vending machines, or people – they’re all the same to you.”

“Shut the _fuck_ up, Izaya-kun.” There is danger in Shizuo’s voice now. In retrospect, he thinks it should have been warning enough, but then he’s always been partial to danger and particularly when it comes to Shizuo.

And anyway, he thinks, he hasn’t left yet. He’s still in Shizuo’s apartment, wearing Shizuo’s clothes. The bedsheets are still dirty. They’re still in no man’s land for now.

“You’re a danger to everyone and everything around you, because compared to you, everything’s ‘delicate’.”

The table cracks when Shizuo slams his fist against it. It’s a big crack, running from right under Shizuo’s fist to the cup of tea sitting untouched in front of Izaya, a mockery of the words he’s been tossing out like they’re nothing.

Where Shizuo’s had strength in his body, Izaya’s always had the strength of his words. He feels like they’re both punching him in the gut right now.

The expression on Shizuo’s face is dark. His fingers clenched into a fist come up to grab the front of Izaya’s shirt – _Shizuo’s_ shirt – and pull him over the table so they’re close enough for Izaya to think maybe Shizuo might kiss his way out of his frustration like he’s done before on occasion. He’s almost ready for that too – some part of him feeling oddly satisfied that this is how it ends. He closes his eyes.

The touch doesn’t come. There is no pair of soft lips against his. There is nothing but the pressure of the hold Shizuo has on his clothes. Something akin to fear rises up his throat. Izaya doesn’t want to see what kind of face he’s making.

“Get the fuck out,” Shizuo says, through gritted teeth, still so close that Izaya can feel his breath on his face. “Get the fuck out of my house, Izaya-kun.”

“I would, if you let me go.” He brings a hand up to tap at Shizuo’s, and it’s only when Shizuo’s grip loosens that he dares open his eyes, takes in the rage evident on Shizuo’s features and some part of him wonder why there’s so much self-control now, where did that short temper go?

He wants to say something – _Shizu-chan, you would wreck the city and other people’s homes but not your own? How selfish,_ or _congratulations, Shizu-chan, you’ve finally learnt how to control yourself!_ Or _just kill me and get it over with, I know you want to –_

Or, _I haven’t had my tea yet._

He leaves to change into his own clothes. They are dry and warm, and they smell like the cheap detergent Shizuo uses that Izaya doesn’t even glance at when he goes grocery shopping. Somehow, it’s harder to wear them than it is to wear the stupid, oversized clothes Shizuo had lent him.

“You better burn these, Shizu-chan,” he murmurs under his breath as he tosses them onto the unmade bed and makes for the front door.

Once he’s out of here, the truce is over. He’s back in Shizuo’s territory. They’re back to their game of cat and mouse. Sometimes Izaya wonders which one is which.

As he passes the kitchen, he sees Shizuo pour the tea down the drain.

That makes sense, after all. Shizuo _hates_ tea.

But Izaya hates him more.

 


End file.
